Lost Time
by Moony8193
Summary: CxC kind of tragic. “I’m so tired, Cappie. And we’ve lost so much time.” “There’s always time for you and me, Case."


She smiles, and it's like catching a precious ray of sunlight in winter, like sand slipping through his fingers

_**For Krissy, the greatest babe muffin in the history of the world. Love you SBFFL. **_

**Disclaimer:** I live life hard and fast and don't claim much. Especially not the sheer genius of Greek.

**--**

He remembers the first time he saw her. Almost everyone does. She's unforgettable; she's all that is warm and decent left in the human race. She smiles, and it's like catching a precious ray of sunlight in winter, like sand slipping through his fingers.

He clings to the scent of her hair, tossing side to side in his dark sheets, body slick with cold sweat from his nightmare, his angel, his love. He's haunted by her soft sighs and her giggles. He wakes in the night, stiff from his meandering dreams that always follow a golden haired girl, and he lies still, some nights, too afraid to move, to even breathe, holding to his vivid dreams with all his might, fearful they might slide away like raindrops on a windowpane.

He hides within himself, where her green eyes can't penetrate his shell, where her innocence hangs like mist in the air, easily shoved aside.

_But there's a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in. _

"Cappie!"

Her eyes- they sparkle. They gleam. Her entire frame seems to glow from within, like the sun resides within her. She's dressed in sleek black, her neck long and slender, her sheet of blonde pulled up in a sweeping bun with care.

He swallows all his emotions and he matches her smile. He can wait. There's always time. There's always been time for them.

"Where have you been?" she burbles, pulling him swiftly into a hug. He stops breathing. He fights to control his emotions, his muscles growing tense. "I haven't seen you since graduation!"

He laughs, throws a careless joke, buries himself deeper within his lies and emotions.

"Well," she beams, tossing her head, "I've had some news!"

Hesitantly, she extends her flawless left hand, and he stares at the sparkling engagement ring, feels his stomach roll in anguish.

"That's great, Case."

He doesn't bother to ask who placed the Harry Winston on her finger. He only knows one man who could afford it.

She looks at him, and for a moment, she's a lonely freshman at her first college party, alone in a loud crowd. She searches his eyes for any hint, any clue, but he's too lost inside his own anguish to save her from her own.

Her green eyes plead for a moment, and half-formed fantasies float through his mind. _Run away with me. I love you. Stay with me. _

But he shakes his head angrily. He promised himself long ago she would never have this power over him again.

She nods, and in that instant, she's once again a Congressman's fiancée, the media's darling and the public's Jackie O, the next First Lady. And he becomes a college flame from ten years ago, that she barely remembers as anything more than a screw off and a slacker.

He wishes he could tell her he's changed. _I'm a photographer, Case! I just signed with Vogue to do a ten-page editorial! I'm making money, and I love you. _He considers telling her of his dreams, of his brooding hours. _You're my muse. Nothing in this world will ever be as beautiful as you. _

But instead, he downs his glass of champagne, and keeps his jaw glued shut.

For one second, her lips open, and she seems to struggle with herself. But she turns, turns into the waiting arms of Frannie and Ashleigh, her closest friends who still laugh and smile just like in college. They haven't changed at all, yet she still sees their worth. _She still loves them. _He had changed for her, yet he remains the discarded clothes from last night's party, soiled and ruined. He would never be anything more.

Evan saunters over to her, his elegant suit and cocky attitude wafting through the reunion like poison. He wraps one long arm around her possessively, beams smugly for the camera crew, who rave over the beauty of his fiancée. She glows underneath his arm, the life inside of her spilling out of her green eyes. His arm grows a little tighter around her.

He knows he should wring it from its socket. He just doesn't have the strength anymore.

"Cappie? You ready to leave?"

Rebecca stands before him, charcoal eyes full of mischief. He shakes free from the golden trail Casey leaves behind her like a calling card, and turns back to his new life.

He never sees his angel staring after him, heartbreak in her innocent eyes.

Fast-forward ten years, into the future. The world-renowned photographer breathes heavily, clenching his camera between his fingers. He steps out of his dressing room, and he is greeted by the view of the Chambers family, the most powerful family in America.

The theme chosen is modern-day Vanderbilts, wealth and power and beauty mixed into one bloodline. Two perfect girls, each with their mother's flawless cheekbones and angelic hair, pose for him, each draped in velvets and fur.

"Mr. Cappie?"

Alissa, the youngest daughter, approaches him. His throat catches. Her eyes- they're big, green, and stunning. She stands as Casey reborn, down to the last strand of hair.

She looks uncomfortable, with a velvet beret pinned tightly to her head, and two Secret Service agents flanking her closely.

"Should we fetch Mom and Dad for the family cover shot?" she asks uncertainly, her darling eyes wide, her curls bouncing.

He looks at her, for a moment, and sees what could have been. This, he thinks, could be his eight-year-old daughter.

"Send them in."

His voice sounds cold and alien, but all the same, they enter, resplendent in expensive jewels and turn-of-the-century hats, flanked by a pack of Secret Service men. Evan's suit fits snugly, his chiseled cheekbones and blue eyes blinding in the light. He is older now, the youngest President of the United States, yet he still looks the same to Cappie. Somehow, he hasn't changed.

Her green velvet dress dims in comparison to her beauty, her hair still blonde, her eyes huge. She looks at him, for perhaps a couple extra moments, trying to recognize him. But she shakes her head in defeat, and turns towards her bickering daughters.

He poses them on the luxurious sofa, and for several moments, he believes they are the most powerful family in America. Her daughters sit immaculately, and little Alissa stares at the camera with her mother's face. He works swiftly, shouting commands. It hurts too much to see them this way. To see her this way.

"I'd recognize those eyes anywhere."

He jumps, and he turns to meet her gaze. She is still dressed in her photo shoot clothing, but she still looks like the Casey he'd seen slouch around CRU in an old sweatshirt.

He tries to speak, but he can't find words. She reaches out, as if to touch his cheek, but pulls away at the last moment, turns.

"They're so blue," she murmurs, and in the next moments, with a click of high heels, she's herded towards her dressing room.

Jump forty years ahead, into the future. Step into the photographer's expensive loft. He sits in his kitchenette, and dreams of omelets at the KT house, back when he was eighteen, and the world sat at his fingertips.

He's older now, yet his blue eyes still stare out of his face with all the passion of a man in love. He's almost 75 now, and he muses bitterly about how long you can love someone. Fifty-seven years is a long time.

He hears a knock, and he answers it. He doesn't think to ask why they were let into the building. He opens his door, and stares into green eyes.

She isn't the Casey he knew. Her hair is white, shockingly white, and her wrinkles had finally caught up with her. Her trim figure had dissipated with time, and before him stood a frail, terribly thin old woman, dressed in all black. Mourning black.

Yet her eyes still met his with all the beauty he had ever seen. In her eyes, he saw Casey.

She's trying not to cry. Her husband has been dead for twenty years, assassinated at a political rally in support for a presidential candidate. The newspapers worship her. Of her strength, perseverance, her ability to move on. She has hundreds of charity to her name, and several Nobel prizes. She lives because Evan died for her.

The bullet was meant for pretty Casey Chambers, the lovely wife of the former President, and was aimed directly at her chest. At the last moment, Evan saw the danger and leapt before his love, his wife, his angel, and took her ticket from the Grim Reaper.

In the end, Cappie thinks, Evan evened the score. He might have loved Casey a fraction as much as he himself did. Still does.

For long minutes, they do not speak. Finally, she breaks the silence.

"I'm old now. I'm not beautiful anymore."

"You're always beautiful to me. I see it in your eyes."

He's surprised he's speaking. His body had betrayed his mind, uttering words he dared not give voice to.

She's crying now.

"I'm single. Evan Chambers has left me again, Cap. And he's not coming back this time."

"He doesn't need to come back. He knows I'll take care of you."

"I'm so tired, Cappie. And we've lost so much time."

"There's always time for you and me, Casey Cartwright. I love you."

He opens his arms, and she sobs against his chest, the sobs of a woman whose heart has been ripped open, who watched the life leave someone's eyes.

_This is the last chapter of our fading days._

**Love. Peace. Joy. Review.**

**-danielle**


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